


Did We Not Choose Each Other

by orphan_account



Category: The Fionavar Tapestry - Guy Gavriel Kay
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:05:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1400782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diarmuid is the devil-may-care, life of the party younger brother, Aileron is the older brother and heir to the throne, much more serious of the two siblings, still Diar manages to coax him into indulging his michevious side. Yes, he does have one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did We Not Choose Each Other

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Irmelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irmelin/gifts).



Disclaimer: The Finovar Tapestry trilogy is the original creation of Guy Gavriel Kay, it is not mine and the characters who appear here or are mentioned are only  
borrowed for the purposes of the story.

Note: the title comes from the Sophie B. Hawkins song.

 

Diarmuid had been assigned guard duty at the eastern gates but when his brother went to look for him there his younger brother was nowhere to be found. While not unusual in and of itself, and certainly not cause for alarm, it still set an unfortunate precedent. 

While he was the elder by only a handful of years Aileron dan Alliel was the much more serious of the siblings and took his responsibilities with the air of a man taking up knightly vows. 

He turned around and was racking his brain for any of his brother’s known haunts when a shrill piercing whistle interrupted his ruminations.  
It was so loud and so sudden was it that Aileron nearly jumped a foot into the air, upsetting his equilibrium and causing him to stumble and collide into one of the pillars of the gate. 

Quickly recovering, he rubbed the shoulder which had been jarred and glanced around hoping that no one in the vicinity had been witness to the incident.

Relieved on that score Aileron began to search for what could have been the source of the whistle when a slight, but sinewy shadow dropped down; shinnying down from the wall, garbed in a light cloak with it’s the hood covering the figure’s face.

All the same, the build, the height and the movements of the cloaked figure were unmistakable; he would know it anywhere, “Diar, what in the name of all that’s decent are you doing? You’re supposed to be guarding this gate.”

“I am,” the other replied with a shrug of supple shoulders and reached to remove his hood. “I just wanted to do things my way. You know what they say, all work and no play make Jacque a dull boy.”

“That’s not what I heard Jacques say and he’s the castle smithy, so he would know a thing a two about hard work. And might I add is something you are sorely lacking.”

“I know, I know, so everyone keeps telling me, and what I’m trying to tell you. Come on, Allieron, give me a chance. One day, or night, if you prefer, just this once, accompanies me on one of my mad capers, it would be fun, and it would give you a chance to unwind for a bit. You’re becoming way too serious, and life is short; enjoy while you can.”

His immediate reaction to this proposition, for that was what it was, was to refuse, but whether or he would or not, at the moment something caught him up. And it could not have been those imploring, guileless blue eyes that gazed at him with merriment and mischief shining in them. 

It was as if a part of him, the part that he had thought put away with he became a man, restlessly stirred, and tugged at his heart in order to be set free. Aloud he replied, “As long as it doesn’t involve anything that will get us in trouble with Father, or tarnish the reputation of any of the ladies of the court.”

Diarmuid placed a hand over his cloak where his heart would be and replied. “Agreed. You have my word.”

“Very well then,” Aileron replied, after clearing his throat. “What did you have in mind?”

“Come on, and I will show you what I have in mind,” replied Diarimuid with an impish grin.

Aileron sighed but he had given in this far and he certainly would not back out now and followed his little brother past the gate and out into the inner bailey of the castle to the low-roofed buildings of the stables,  
granary and smithy.

Jacque was not in residence when they entered the smoky interior of the smithy but his apprentice, George was, who sketched a bow upon siting the two princes. “Take it easy, George, “Diarmuid, we just need to borrow a few items and I promise that we’ll return them once we’re done. 

“Does Jacque know about this?” asked George.

“No, but the way I figure it, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” said Diar.

“What do you need then?” asked George.

“A maul and some wax.”

“What are you going to do?” Aileron managed.

“You’ll see."

“So, you keep saying, but I am not so certain about the wisdom of this venture,” Allieron began before he was cut off by a sharp elbow nudge from his little brother.

“Are you going to back out now? Diar challenged.

“No,” replied Aileron.

In short order George went and fetched the requested items and handed them over. “Thanks, George.”

The apprentice merely grunted in acknowledgement and went back to his work.

The two brothers left the smithy and went over to the carriage house, Diar carried the maul and Aileron carried the bucket with the hot wax sloshing around inside of it.

“We’re here,” Diar announced. “If you would be so kind as to bring the wax over to the middle of the row and hold it still while you pour, before we lose the light. This will be much harder once darkness falls.”

“What’s the maul for?” asked Aileron in a rather detached tone of voice, as if knocking the wheels off of carriages was something he did every day and never thought twice about it. 

“In case the wax hardens,” his little brother replied.

“Oh, of course, and began to pour it out as instructed, idly noting the crest on the carriages that they were currently disabling. 

From a very young age both brothers had been taught heraldry, arching, dancing; all the courtly arts that members of the nobility were expected to learn. The crests belonged to minor member of the nobility but a wealthy one and one that their father had invited to court with the intention of brokering a marriage betrothal between himself and the daughter of said lord. Both of them were still young to actually marry but not young enough to not consider of a possible match. 

Aileron was not certain how he felt about that, and while it was not uncommon for the children of royalty to marry sight unseen for the good of their respective realms, it was still a disconcerting thought. 

Diar seemed to have cultivated a reputation of being very much the ladies’ man, but not the type to ever settle down, which their father often seemed to despair of, long and loudly. 

Aloud, he simply asked, “I think that’s enough.”

Diarmuid tossed his head back and laughed. “I concur.” Although, after this little stunt I might as well incise my initials into the wax while I’m at."

“That’s with the supposition that someone will catch out and assign the blame in the appropriate place.

“I doubt that George will sell us out, he’s a good lad, a but sullen, but good.”

“It’s not George that I’m worried about. Nor, his master Jacque.”

“Who then?”

“I’ll cover for you,” Aileron said simply.

Diar normally a verbose, gallant, charming charismatic fellow was momentarily at a loss for words, gaping at his older brother as if he had never seen him before.

“Have you lost the power of speech, little brother?”

“No, I, it’s well, quite unexpected, but thank you. However, curiosity begs the question, why would you do that for me?”

“Because you’re my brother, and blood will tell, and because….” since it’s seems like the right thing to, and because,” he stood up and reached out his arms to draw his little brother into a tight hug.  
When his older brother finally released him, with a gruff, “I love you, Diar. I know I’ve never been very good at showing it, however, there it is all the same.”

“Right back at you, and thank you, Aileron. Now, let’s get out of here.”

“You will get no arguments from me.”


End file.
